Semitones
by me malum
Summary: Wherein Apollo, unaware of a German's crush on him, meets the remaining overprotective bandmates. Who then become the obligatory matchmakers to get the two together.
1. Chapter 1

Damn, but I _heart_ this pairing _so_ much. And I couldn't even get them together, damnit. General **spoiler alert **for throughout AJ: AA. And to make the whole premise of this fic work (because it snuck up and beat me over the head 'til I had to write it) I gave Apollo a talent he didn't have in the game. Read on to find out?

(And I apologise for the use of OCs as Klavier's other bandmates. But it was the only way this would work!)

**Disclaimer** : yeah, I no own. Klavier might be a kinky bastard (I can _totally_ see that) but I don't think he's into slavery.

Don't know when this will be continued- but with the way my writing is at the moment, I would have to say more likely not for a while.

Enjoy!

* * *

Apollo stopped dead in the doorway to the prosecutor's office. He was used to the array of guitars lining the walls... but was that a _drum kit_ in the corner?

The German he'd come to see looked up from where he was deep in conversation with two vaguely familiar men. "Herr Forehead!" He fiddled with his fringe, a sign that he was thinking hard. "Not that it won't be a pleasure, I'm sure, but why have you come to see me?"

The defence attorney blinked. "You- I- I came to bring you the paperwork for the case we just finished?"

He wasn't sure what annoyed him more; that Gavin had apparently forgotten asking him over, or his stutter.

Klavier frowned. "The paperwork... ah! Danke, Herr Forehead." He took the proffered files, glanced at the first page and tossed them carelessly onto the already crowded desk.

One of his companions snorted. "That's the guy you've been-" Klavier glared, and the speaker rolled his eyes, "_Going up against_ in court? And _losing_ to?" One of his hands idly plucked at an electric bass resting at his feet. It created a low humming sound that had been bugging Apollo since he entered the office. _D_, he absently noted.

Apollo figured opening his mouth just then would be a bad idea. Unfortunately, he did it anyway. "Hey! It's not a matter of who wins or loses when we're in court! It's a matter of the truth!"

A dark laugh was heard, and Apollo turned to the corner it came from. A third unknown- but still familiar- man was seated behind the drum kit that he'd missed earlier. "Yeah, we've seen first-hand how much you care about the truth, little attorney, even to the exclusion of all else. Ever heard of that underrated personality quirk called _loyalty_?"

"_Jem_," Klavier hissed, followed by a brutal-sounding torrent of German. The other man replied just as fluently, and judging by the interested looks on the faces of the remaining two men, Apollo resigned himself to being the only one who didn't know what was being said.

_Jem_ suddenly broke off laughing, and reverted to English. "You're telling me this guy's put away you brother _and_ your best friend, and you don't feel a shred of animosity for him? Damn, but you've got the forgiveness of a saint. I know _I'm_ watching my back, just in case he decides to go after any more of your friends-"

Apollo broke in sweetly, beyond annoyed. "So if you don't commit a crime, we'll have no problems, will we?"

One of the men on the couch made to get up, only to be restrained by the other. When this person turned back, Apollo gasped out loud. There was the eyes, the nose, even a hint in the mouth-

"I'm Damien Crescend, Daryan's less-famous older brother. Also the keyboardist for the Gavinners, and attached to the 31st precinct in New York." He smirked, not unkindly. "And you look like you've just seen a ghost, little attorney."

_Why are there _always_ brothers?_

Apollo coughed. "In a manner of speaking, Mr _Crescend_," he managed to say.

"Ah!" The outburst was Klavier's. "That is why you looked so strangely at me in the park, _ja_? When we first met?" Did the prosecutor look... disappointed?

"Just so, Prosecutor Gavin," he agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'll see myself out."

He'd worked out for himself who the other two men were: Jeremiah Whistle, drummer, and half-Italian Valentino Corde, bassist; the remaining four Gavinners. He must have been interrupting a band meeting.

"Not so fast!" Valentino _finally_ stopped plucking idly at the bass by his foot, and gestured him back over. "We have a problem, see."

"And judging by your show back in July, they," Valentino coughed slightly. Jeremiah glared a little. "Fine, _we _think you can help us," the drummer amended.

Apollo raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Klavier, who had a '_we? What we?_' look on his face. Point taken, (because he did _somewhat_ trust the prosecutor, even in court) he smiled his professional best. "I'm afraid if you require my services, you'll have to make an appointment. Good day."

He was called back this time by Damien. "Wait! It's nothing like that; we don't have a legal problem. We just need a... a fresh ear, you might say."

"Ear..." Apollo trailed off. "You want me to listen to you _play_?"

"The performance doesn't sound right," the keyboardist continued. "And since you're here, you might as well have a shot at the reason why. You did okay with the recordings back then."

_He should flat-out refuse._

"But I could replay them as I needed to," He countered. "Hearing it live would be another matter altogether."

_Though hardly a problem, all the same. Even if they didn't realise it._

"At least give it a try, please?" Damien all but begged the attorney. "Just one?"

_When your hearing's pitch-perfect, one is all you need._

He made the mistake of looking at the Prosecutor for help. Klavier had an intrigued look on his face that made Apollo's competitive side rear its head. "... Fine." At Damien's massive grin, he hurriedly qualified, "Just once, though, okay?"

It wasn't like he'd need a second go, anyway.

The Gavinners immediately jumped into action. Jeremiah was hitting a basic AC/DC 4-beat on his drums, Valentino began switching between the beloved D and the F natural above it. Damien sat and smiled from where he was, lazily holding up a remote in one hand. "It was either the drum kit or the keyboard," He explained. "These philistines chose the drums, and I'm stuck with bringing recordings. Should be coming in, in one, two, three- now!" He clicked the remote: two chords, an A minor seventh melding into D major, introduced an almost jazz-like piano solo.

Apollo closed his eyes and cocked his head, but he couldn't hear anything out of place. Every note was pitched perfectly, harmonious for the most part with a few apparently deliberate discords (they appeared regularly enough to be counted as deliberate, in any case). He tuned out those three parts, waiting for Klavier and his guitar to come in.

He counted two more bars before the strings began. And although Klavier's playing was always a pleasure to listen to, within four bars more, he'd identified it as the source of the problem.

_Rhythm's fine, fits in with the rest of the parts. Must be pitch then._

He concentrated a bit more. D, G, A flat, _hold,_ A flat again, E flat to D... rinse and repeat. Minor variation, sub B for G and D for F...

He had it. Or at least, he had a guess; even if he was wrong, he'd be out of there all the sooner. He'd need to test it himself to be sure. Apollo opened his eyes and found that in the course of his listening, he'd gravitated towards the guitar and its player. Klavier's eyes were on him, watching him.

He turned away and coughed gently. "Ah- I think I've got it."

Playing stopped immediately. Valentino was impassive, Jeremiah incredulous; even Damien looked a bit disbelieving.

The drummer snorted. "You think? After just a minute? After replaying the concert performance _how_ many times?"

... _So maybe he'd acted the part of musical dunce back then a little _too _well._

"Yes, I think," the attorney bit out. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Honestly? No," the drummer replied, animosity plain. "I figure it's a waste of time."

"Where's the problem then?" Damien cut in hurriedly, before Apollo could respond.

With a final glare, Apollo turned back to Klavier. "It's the guitar." He gestured with his right hand. "If I could..?"

A few eyebrows were raised across the room. "You play?" Valentino asked, curiosity clear in his voice.

Apollo ignored the question, standing still with his right hand still out. His foot started tapping in annoyance when nobody moved.

He couldn't ignore the drummer's half-muttered comment of, "Of course he doesn't. He's probably making it up as he goes along, hoping to get lucky."

Apollo's temper ratcheted up the final notch. "Give me the guitar," he ordered the surprised looking German, who obeyed probably more out of instinct than anything else. The attorney quickly adjusted the strap and took the pick when it was held out to him. Ignoring the other four, he ran up and down a scale before playing a short section from Dire Straits.

If Klavier had looked surprised before, it was nothing to how he looked _now_.

Apollo finally looked up. "Your A string's tuned a semitone too low." He pulled off the guitar and tossed it back at the prosecutor. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have _work_ to be getting on with at _my_ office."

Klavier barely caught the guitar in time. He stared, completely flabbergasted, at the attorney walking out of the door, and then at his band mates.

The door slammed, and it was like a switch had been flicked, personality-wise.

Damien was the first to break. He chuckled, cracked his knuckles and said, "Well. You didn't tell us your little crush is also a musician. I approve!"

"I'd bet our German front man didn't _know_," Jem picked up the trail of conversation from his corner. "Does it make you wonder what else you can discover about him, Klavier?"

Klavier said nothing, but the remaining Gavinners laughed when a hint of red reached his cheekbones.

"You know," Valentino mused, "He's the first crush of yours we've met who actually passed our test." The bassist sighed. "And I was all prepared to dislike him, too."

Klavier blinked. "You did this to _every_ person I've gone out with?" His band mates grinned unrepentantly back at him. "Sheisse, no wonder nobody lasted more than two months after meeting you!" His voice became more indignant, if possible. "And just when did you detune my guitar?"

"You'll always be the youngest here, Klavier." Damien smiled at him, ignoring the last bit. "Aren't you glad we're looking out for you? Oh, and by the way: Mr Justice? Totally oblivious. If you took him out to dinner he'd probably think it was for a case."

"He did," Klavier muttered, knowing it would set them off again. "He just looked confused when I asked him what he was doing outside of work."

"Don't worry, Klavier! You've got us to help you now. We've still got a week until we all leave!" Damien said brightly. Jem and Valentino looked less enthusiastic, but resigned.

Klavier glared at Damien. "You're right. I'm not worrying anymore. I'm _terrified_!"

* * *

... Should there be a crack! warning on this? I wasn't sure...

Pitch-perfect hearing is somewhat rare- it's basically the ability to listen to a musical note and just _know_ the pitch it's played at. If there's anything more technical than that, I'm clueless, but I liked the idea of Apollo out-musicking the chief musician of the series. And thus this was born.

Let me know what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

So- part 2. I think it'll probably be 4-5 parts total, when I get round to writing them up from the plan (yes, there is a plan- and was that the sound of my GCSE English teacher fainting?). There'll probably be a similar amount of time between updates, what with my Uni work at the moment.

**Disclaimer- **Heh. I wish.

Thank you for all of the reviews- Demonslayer101, compa16, Reynold Black, Yautjan, Riddikulus-Grin, Dancing Feather, mochiusagi, TotallyGaga, StarzXAndXMoon, Shinigami Lupin, phishy, Forever the Uke, zara2148, gomenasai-for-everything and Fairady- faves and alerts on the last chapter. I'm so glad other people like this; I was rather nervous about the OCs and the extra talent thing.

Warning- same OCs, mild language, extensive dialogue and barely remembered foreign words. Any corrections welcome, if it bugs someone that much.

Enjoy.

* * *

A disquieting feeling lingered as Apollo entered his office. He mentally catalogued Trucy's props and the odd bottle of grape juice Mr Wright had left behind.

Nothing was out of place since he'd left them earlier that afternoon. He resolved to ignore the feeling.

He jumped when the door slammed, announcing the arrival of the resident magician. Trucy started talking a mile a minute when she saw him about the show she had planned later that week and the different tricks she had to practise and-

Apollo casually spoke over her, asking, "Did you know that the drummer of your favourite former band is a completely infuriating excuse of a human being?"

Trucy kept talking for a moment, but he'd expected that. Then, as his question sank in, she stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at him.

Apollo fought the urge to shiver.

"You met Jem Whistle?" She asked, voice reverent for a moment. Then she frowned. "And you fell for his moody act? _Honestly_, Polly! I thought lawyers were meant to be _good_ at reading people."

Apollo frowned dubiously. "If that was an act, he's in the wrong strand of entertaining." _Definitely should have been an actor._

The magician rolled her eyes at him. "Did you at least get his autograph for me?" When the attorney coughed as though choking on something (disbelief, most likely), she pouted a little. "I have to complete my collection! C'mon Polly, help a girl out here. You're my best shot at doing this."

He shrugged. "For all I know, they're leaving tomorrow, Trucy," he said. The pout deepened, and she started on the puppy-eyes to match. Laughing a little, he relented. "Okay! I'll ask if I get a chance, if it's not too mortifying for me." He paused, thinking, _in for a penny... _"Do you need any others?"

Her eyes widened, in honest shock this time. "They're _all_ here?" she whispered. Her devious mind imagined making Polly stutter out his request to all of the non-imprisoned band members. _Even if I already have _their _autograph_, she continued, when the image of a stuttering Apollo and a blushing Klavier took up residence in her brain and refused to leave.

Trucy grinned, and it wasn't entirely innocent.

For his part, Apollo wished he'd never made the offer.

* * *

Especially when it became clear that the band _weren't_ planning to leave on the following day. A disgustingly cheerful (it was only eight-thirty in the morning; the office wasn't even _open_ yet, God damn it) Damien Crescend waltzed in behind a moonstruck, on-her-way-to-school Trucy and placed one of the two cups of coffee in his hand down on Apollo's desk.

Apollo stared between the cup and the keyboardist for a second before grabbing the coffee and drinking half of it in three gulps, disregarding the near-scalding heat. Much to his embarrassment, a "Thank God, I love you," slipped out when his eyes were closed, enjoying the bitter taste.

Damien only grinned, taking it in spirit. "I bet you say that to anyone who brings you coffee," he teased. "Does it taste okay? Klavier said you took it black, one sugar."

Eyes shot open, and blinked a few times. "Gavin knows how I like my coffee?"

In the background, Trucy let out a giggle. Apollo's head turned at the sound, and he frowned at her. "Shouldn't you be getting to school? You do need to put in _some_ kind of attendance this year."

"It's only the first term! You never learn anything important in the first term!" Trucy protested immediately.

Apollo's frown didn't let up. A moody, "Fine, see you later Polly!" reached his ears, followed by the sound of the front door slamming. He turned back to his more pressing problem.

"But seriously, Gavin knows how I like my coffee?" If Apollo was blushing (and he had a horrifying feeling that he _was_) he was determined to ignore it.

Damien let out a light chuckle. "Anyone ever tell you you've got a one-track mind?"

Apollo let out his own laugh. "Only once," he said completely seriously, knowing both of them knew it was a lie.

When the chuckles died down, Damien took up the torch for his German friend. "Is it really so surprising, given how much time you guys spend together now?" He silently thanked the little magician for the coffee-titbit, information he would be passing on to Klavier as soon as he got back. After being solemnly informed that 'Polly belonged to Mister Gavin; don't you try stealing him away now!' and informing her that _that_ was the last thing on his agenda, she'd been amazingly helpful.

Apollo furrowed his brows and took another gulp of coffee. That disquieting feeling, that something was slightly out of place, was back again. But it made logical sense, he concluded. After all, he knew the German musician preferred hot chocolate to tea _or_ coffee, and added as much extra sugar (via marshmallows and cream) as he could get away with whenever he had it. "I suppose not," is all he said to the question, meeting the man's eyes. "So why are you here? I presume it wasn't solely to bring me coffee."

Damien tried for innocent, and failed. "I could be that nice a person?" Then he shrugged. "Just wanted to thank you for yesterday. God knows how long we'd have been there otherwise, arguing."

The attorney raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a lawyer for nothing, you know," he said. "And I'm a passable musician. Gavin's a flamboyant one." He hadn't worked it out at the time (thanks to anger-inciting thrice-damned actor-musicians) but thinking back on the scene, he'd worked out what hadn't felt quite right about it. He laced his fingers together and placed his elbows on the desk, leaning forwards a little. With a smirk, he asked, "There's no way he was playing with his guitar like that all afternoon. So when did you detune it? And how didn't he notice for so long?"

Damien debated the wisdom of disclosing the fact that as far as blond-haired German prosecutors went, _Apollo_ was entirely enough of a distraction. "When you walked in," he hedged. "He was more focussed on what you were doing, and left the guitar by the sofa."

"Hmm." Apollo nodded. "That just leaves the question of why?"

Damien felt himself start to sweat under the steady gaze. "_Damn_, but it's obvious why you're a lawyer," he muttered, before answering the question. "It's just a prank we play," he started, knowing the attorney would understand 'we' meant him, Valentino and Jem. "Yanno, making sure our Klavier's not making friends with idiots and all."

Apollo leant back again, face clearly showing confusion. "Not lying," the attorney mumbled to himself. "Or he doesn't think he is." He looked up again, disbelief prevalent. "You do this to _all_ his friends?"

And just like that, Damien knew he could have control of the conversation again. With an easy smirk, he replied, "Nah, only the cute ones," and made his way to the door before Apollo could recover from his sudden coughing fit. "See you around, attorney," he waved, and made his way out into the winter sunshine.

It was the start to a beautiful day.

* * *

"I come bearing news!" Damien hollered into the silence of the flat, laden down with four more cups of hot drinks. He expertly manoeuvred around his discarded sleeping bag and none-too-gently kicked the lump in the occupied one. Laying the cups on the coffee table, he threw a pillow at the figure on the sofa and the more solid remote at Klavier's bedroom door. "Up and at 'em, bandies! The plan is underway!"

Valentino, on the couch, grumbled and rolled over, half-heartedly chucking the pillow back. Jem sat up, blinking away sleep and rubbing his side. "Is that coffee I smell?" he asked, eyes fixed on the steaming cups.

"Uh uh!" Damien moved them out of the drummer's reach. "Not until Klavier's here." He picked up the second remote, prepared to launch that next.

Jem shook his head, looking mournfully after the coffee. "Klav's in the shower; he wouldn't hear it anyway."

The keyboardist only smirked and went to the closed door himself. "Klavier? There's an attorney here asking to see you!" He yelled loud enough to be heard over the singing coming from behind the wood.

Jem snorted, and Valentino growled, apparently giving up on sleep. "_Ti odo_," he muttered. "Where's the expresso?"

Damien slouched into the armchair and grinned. "I got a love declaration from the last person I bought coffee for." His grin turned devious as he heard Klavier finally make it to the living room. "The little attorney was most appreciative."

There was a strangled noise from the bathroom door. "He loves you?" His voice grew petulant. "He hasn't even said he _likes_ me." Klavier glanced around his apartment. "I assume the 'asking to see me' was a transparent attempt to get me into the living room?"

Jem snorted. "Transparent or not, it worked." He stretched out a hand for his cup. "Gimme the coffee, Crescend."

"Why were you buying Herr Forehead coffee, Damien?" Klavier accepted his drink- the only one which wasn't coffee- and glared at his keyboardist. Damien raised his now free hand in the typical _I surrender_ gesture.

"I didn't actually mean to! But there was this girl outside the shop and I remember her helping your little attorney out during- _that_ case. She happened to mention something you might want to know." He trailed off, laughing at how Klavier's irritation increased. "Mr Justice takes his coffee black, with one sugar only."

The blond frowned and sank down into the couch. "How does _that_ help me?"

Damien stared disbelievingly at him, and Valentino looked up from his cup to do the same. Jem, entirely disinterested in the conversation, just cuddled his coffee and tried to wake up.

"Klavier." Their bassist spoke very slowly, as though explaining to a child. "Mr Justice is a lawyer. Worse than that; unlike you, he's a lawyer who works very hard for the people who hire him." He ignored the prosecutor's indignant _Hey!_ and carried on. "Which means very long hours, and very few breaks outside of those he manages to win in a courtroom."

Damien picked up the explanation. "Which means on any given day of the week, he's going to have more caffeine in his veins than blood. Which means that you have an opening." He looked at Klavier, expecting the blond to work out the rest for himself.

Klavier still looked clueless. "I need to drag him away to take breaks? Make him start looking after himself?"

Damien face palmed while Valentino muttered, "At least he appreciates that Justice has _some_ manly pride issues."

Jem looked up at this. "He didn't say, I'll start looking after him," the bassist explained.

Jem 'ah'ed' and went back to ignoring the lot of them.

"What was wrong with that?" Klavier almost begged. Valentino clocked him upside the head.

"You're meant to start bringing him coffee," Damien said. "Not try to stop him working, or he'll only fret and resent you."

The blond looked sceptical. "Bringing him _coffee_ will make him fall in love with me?" He looked steadily at both of them.

Damien sent the same look back and Valentino nodded sagely. "Believe me; I'm Italian."

"Only half," the German muttered. "But you're completely _insane_."

"Oh, for the love of-" Jem broke off. "Just try it once and quit bitching about it already. If it doesn't work, you've lost nothing."

The other three stared at him. "What?" he growled defensively. "I'm not allowed to take an interest?"

"You normally don't," was Klavier's cautious reply.

"That's because normally you decide to fall in love with idiots, musically speaking. This one has hope." He started to shrink beneath the disbelieving stares levelled at him. "Okay, and the sooner Klavier gets anywhere with him the sooner he stops _whining_ about it."

The German was immediately on the defensive. "I don't whine! Damien, do I whine?" He turned pleadingly to his keyboardist, eyes beseeching.

Damien coughed awkwardly. "'Course not."

"Until now," Valentino added with a smirk.

"Okay!" Damien cut in before the argument started. Klavier reluctantly lowered the pillow he'd been about to throw. "Plan of action, now?"

"What's in that file he brought you yesterday?" Jem asked, remembering how the guitarist had tossed it aside.

"Details for our last case; wrapping up the paperwork." Klavier said dismissively. "What about it?"

"Start there," Valentino immediately advised. "Read the file, add your work..." He questioned hesitantly, "You did actually do the work on that case, right?"

"Yes!" Klavier snapped. "Maybe I don't work as extensively as Herr Forehead, but I get the job done."

"Right. So, add your work to the file, and go drop it at his office. Sit and chat for a couple of minutes, less if he looks uncomfortable or like he just plain wants you gone."

Klavier raised an eyebrow.

Valentino huffed in annoyance. "And if it doesn't work, come back and bitch and moan about it to your heart's content, and we'll break out the ice cream and chocolate in sympathy."

"That another Italian thing?" Jem tossed at the bassist.

Said Italian (half, really) smirked right back. "Actually, that I learnt from you Americans."

"Oi, ladies!" Damien played peacemaker again. "Shall we take this to the office then?"

"Just let me grab a shower," Valentino groused, while Jem simply pulled jeans and a t-shirt on.

"And then, my good Gavinners, Plan: Attorney begins!"

* * *

Apollo sneezed again, and looked longingly at the window. Maybe he should take a break? Just long enough to grab another coffee?

No. He had to finish this file first.

He absently wondered if he'd get the file back from his prosecuting rival within the next week. The papers passed between their offices tended to be the ones filed anywhere up to a month later than they should.

The doorbell chimed, and he plastered his 'serious attorney' face on (the one most clients seemed to appreciate) to cover his 'desperately needing coffee/distracting/a paycheck' expression. Then noticed it was the German he'd just been thinking of, and settled for a 'is this urgent? I need to work, unlike _some_ people I know' frown.

Gavin smiled at him. Apollo continued to frown. "What do you want?" he asked, half-dreading the answer.

"No need to look so worried, Herr Forehead," Gavin flicked his hair back over his shoulder. "I'm just here to return your file."

Apollo tried to think of any files he'd sent the Prosecutor in the last month. Except for the one yesterday, he was coming up blank. "Yesterday's file?" he clarified, uncertain. "The Levallois case? I wasn't expecting that for at least a week."

Gavin shrugged, drawing attention to the papers in his hand. "It's promising to be a slow week. Why do you think everyone's come to visit now?"

Apollo made a noise of understanding and held his hand out for the completed files. Skimming them quickly, he realised the German had actually followed procedure, his additions clear and concise. Apollo looked up in time to see Gavin- fidgeting? Feeling the attorney's eyes on him, the blond quickly shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks, Gavin," he said sincerely. It would be nice to have his papers in order, for once. A smile threatened to break free; Apollo reckoned it was time to kick the prosecutor out.

"You're welcome," was said quietly in reply. "Herr Forehead." This was louder; Klavier nodded at him and went to leave.

"See you around, Gavin," Apollo called after him. The man deserved some kind of reply, he felt; Apollo had assumed that he'd use his visiting friends as an excuse to not work until they'd left again.

The words sparked a memory of his conversation with Trucy, and Apollo groaned, already regretting his next actions.

He leapt up after the prosecutor and caught him before the blond was out of earshot down the street. "Gavin!"

Klavier turned, looking confused. He retraced his steps at the attorney's beckoning.

Apollo had one hand keeping the door open as the other scratched at the back of his neck nervously. "Er... it's just... Trucy!" he got out, nearly stuttering. "Trucy... was wondering if she could get your friends' autographs before they leave? Although she might've got Crescend's already..." he trailed off, disconcerted by the reappearance of Gavin's grin.

"A set of autographs for the Fraulien, hm? Not a second made out to 'the adorable Herr Forehead' also?" Gavin had the same look in his eye that he'd had at the park on their first meeting. Apollo scoffed to hide his sudden blush.

"If _I_ wanted your autograph, I'd ask for it," he muttered. "Not that I don't already have it on all the paperwork we sign off between us."

"So _that's_ why you're so insistent on all the paperwork I return to you," Nothing could ruin Klavier's mood at that moment. "You just want to increase your collection, _ja_?" He ruffled the attorney's hair, laughing as hands immediately came up to bat his away. "I'll put in a word for you, Herr Forehead. Until next time." He waved and made to leave for the second time.

Apollo didn't call him back again.

Growling, he stomped back to the office until he found a mirror, and straightened his hair back into its normal style. "I'm _not_ making a collection of his autographs," he told his reflection. "Although," he mused, "there's probably quite the profit to be made in selling them on." Finally satisfied with his spikes, he returned to his desk.

And froze.

"Did he _really_ call me adorable?"

Apollo's mind ground to a halt as he recalled the comment, along with the look in Gavin's eye as he said it.

His gaze locked on to his empty mug; Apollo agreed with his subconscious and decided coffee was the perfect remedy for his confusion.

One steaming cup later, he felt ready to work again.

_The man's a tease. That's it. He's always tried to make you react; isn't that why he calls you 'Herr Forehead' in the first place?_

Crisis averted, it was a cheerier attorney who settled back into his chair, pen in hand and papers waiting to be filled out.

* * *

Klavier closed the door to his office and was immediately accosted by his band mates.

"So how did it go?"

Mulling it over, like he had for the entire walk back, Klavier considered. "Hard to tell, really. He was happy about the paperwork though. Oh, and he wants your autographs for his sister."

"See?" Damien clapped him on the back. "This is progress already!"

Even Jem looked sceptical at that comment.

"Well, it is!" the keyboardist defended his point. "You didn't tick your little attorney off this time, did you?"

Valentino nodded agreeably until Klavier's expression turned sheepish. "_Madre de dios_," he muttered. "You didn't bring coffee, did you? We told you to wait on that; Damien beat you to the punch there."

"I don't _need_ blow-by-blow instructions, you know?" Klavier protested, as he sank into his desk chair. "I _have_ managed relationships _without _your input in the past. And no, I didn't bring coffee; twice in one day's too suspicious." His tone lowered as he added the next bit: "I just ruffled his hair a little."

Valentino glared at him. "Are you taking this seriously? Do you _want_ him to hate you?"

Klavier opened his mouth to reply, but Jem beat him to it. "Actually," the drummer cut in, "This isn't totally awful."

Even Damien looked surprised at his contribution. "I don't fancy any chocolate at the moment," he snapped, before continuing his previous statement. "Come on, Justice's gonna catch on at some point, if Klavier keeps teasing him like he does."

There was a long pause.

"Huh," Damien finally said. "That was almost insightful."

Valentino shot the drummer a wicked grin. "Just wait; soon all you'll be missing is the other X-chromosome."

"I will _hurt_ you," Jem retorted. He started counting off revenge pranks on his fingers. "First- I'll break his bass strings, yeah- they're a bitch to replace. Then I'll cut his hair while he's sleeping, crash his car- the Lamborghini, not the crappy one he drives for convenience..."

As Jem continued mumbling, Klavier tried to re-direct the conversation. "Do my actions pass inspection, then?" he asked, sarcasm evident.

"So you acted like yourself, and Justice didn't notice any change?" Valentino summarised, ignoring the threatened acts against his person.

Klavier rolled his eyes, but nodded with a sinking feeling.

"My friend," Damien's tone was the most serious it had been for the whole conversation. "We have a long way to go."

The German groaned, and leaned forwards until his head met the desk.


End file.
